


Unrequited

by Beleriandings



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: AU maybe?, M/M, Unrequited attraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-24
Updated: 2014-02-24
Packaged: 2018-01-13 15:47:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1232134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beleriandings/pseuds/Beleriandings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fingon, head over heels in love with Maedhros, finds out something unexpected about his cousin Maglor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unrequited

Telperion was beginning to wane, the first hints of gold creeping across the sky, as Findekáno quietly let himself out of the back door of the house, a small smile on his face. He closed the door soundlessly behind him, the motion practiced, as he thought back to Maitimo as he had last seen him, only minutes before, his tunic hastily pulled on back to front as he leaned furtively out of the door of his room into the corridor to risk a swift kiss out in the open as Findekáno took his leave. His hair had been maddeningly dishevelled, and Findekáno’s smile twisted into a broad grin and then a grimace of wanting as he thought of it. One last time he had run his fingers through the thick red locks, tangled and still damp with sweat from their passions of the last few hours. But then his smile faded as he thought of how quickly that last kiss was over, how he had had to dart down the corridor and silently down the back stairs before the household awakened. Maitimo had torn himself away first, out of necessity, he knew. And yet the sight of his cousin standing there at the door with half of a lopsided, regretful smile on his face and one hand slightly raised where it had cupped Findekáno’s cheek moments before had almost made him turn back, consequences be damned. Findekáno longed most of all for an end to this subterfuge, to the sneaking and the hiding, longed to be able to sleep carefree in Maitimo’s arms and wake up next to him, to spend long and leisurely mornings in bed without having to worry about being discovered. He sighed, regret hanging heavy over him, darkening his residual elation to weary acceptance. Suddenly he realised how tired he truly was. He never seemed to notice when he was still with Maitimo, but he felt heavy and his eyelids drooped as he flitted surreptitiously down the garden path towards the gate, knowing he still had to make the journey home to Tirion.  
“Good morning, Findekáno.” The voice was quiet and neutral, but it made him start guiltily, whirling to try to locate its source.  
“Macalaurë” he breathed, relieved, as he spotted his cousin sitting on the ground with his back to a tree trunk, not far off. Macalaurë knew about he and Maitimo, was one of the few people with whom they trusted their secret. He frowned. “Macalaurë, are you alright? Have you… I mean, how long have you been out here?”  
“A matter of hours” said Macalaurë, his face regretful, but betraying little else. He looked up at Findekáno, patting the ground beside him. “Sit with me for a while?”  
“I should - ”  
He held up a wine skin, offering it to Findekáno. “Oh, come on. Have a drink with me. I doubt that a few extra minutes will damage your pretence that you’re not fucking my brother.”  
“Macalaurë…” Findekáno was mildly disturbed. “Are you drunk…?”  
“I should say so. A bit. Perhaps.” His words were a little slurred. “But only enough to want to talk somewhat more.” He laughed quietly. “Than usual, I mean. Sit with me?”  
Findekáno sat down beside him and took a sip, wondering where this conversation was going. The wine was heavy and sweet, but not distastefully so. “You want to talk?” He asked, for want of anything else to say. “Alright. What were you doing last night? Why are you…” he gestured weakly around them.  
Macalaurë looked him in the eye, his storm grey gaze unwavering, and Findekáno thought that maybe he wasn’t quite as drunk as he had first appeared. “I was in Tirion” he said slowly. “Being, as usual, unlucky in love.”  
Findekáno felt a stab of pity for Macalaurë, remembering the most recent girl he had had hopes for. It was not as thought Macalaurë was not charming, but lately he seemed to have developed something of a knack for starting hasty, tempestuous romances that ended rather quickly and most often with arguments and tears. “Oh. I am sorry” he said, and meant it.  
“There will be others. It makes no matter” said Macalaurë heavily. “Although sometimes, I do think…” he sighed, then looked up sharply at Findekáno. “I only take joy in the face that you and Maitimo have true happiness together.”  
Findekáno stared at him, surprised by the sudden change of subject. “Ah… thank you.” He could not help a small smile from spreading across his face. Macalaurë smiled too, but sadly, with just a hint of bitterness.  
“You shouldn’t listen to anyone who spreads hateful rumours about you, you know. It is a strange thing; they would call your behaviour depraved in the city, but often I think that you have quite the most endearing romance, more like something out of a story than anything that ever graced the printed page. I daresay I could write a heart-rendingly beautiful song about the two of you, if I had a mind to.”  
Findekáno was not quite sure what to say to this, but Macalaurë was looking at him intently, as if waiting with apprehension for his reaction to this. His features were similar to Maitimo’s, almost as if they had been subtly rearranged on his face. Maitimo’s beauty was famed, Findekáno thought, and he himself rarely saw the beauty of anyone else, but now he realised that Macalaurë possessed his own quiet, serious intensity. “I… I’m certain you could” he replied at last, wondering whether Macalaurë’s talkative mood would stretch to explaining what he was getting at clearly.  
“Findekáno” began Macalaurë, looking down at the ground instead of at him as he spoke, “do you think…” he looked at Findekáno suddenly, his gaze beseeching. “Do you think it is truly as they say, that each person has one with whom they have a connection?” Then he looked away and snorted. “But of course you believe that” he answered himself, not waiting for Findekáno to speak. “What am I thinking? If there is to be anyone for whom it is true, then it is you and Maitimo. You are quite perfect, and you love each other desperately” his silken voice cracked a little. “Am I not correct?”  
“I…” suddenly Findekáno felt an overwhelming sense of forboding. “I suppose so” he said warily. Macalaurë was looking into his eyes again, fixing him with that intent stare as if he was searching for something in his gaze, something that he could not find, his full lips slightly parted. There was an uncharacteristic vulnerability to that face that was normally so guarded. Finally Macalaurë took a deep breath. “Findekáno…” he began. “I wanted you to know… I must tell you something, I cannot bear it anymore, and I hope you will not hate me for it.”  
“Macalaurë” said Findekáno gently, slightly disturbed by this uncharacterisitic behaviour. “You know you can tell me anything. I will never hate you.”  
“I know” said Macalaurë, but he did not seem reassured, his teeth locking together for a moment before he continued. “I just… if things had been different between you and Maitimo, between you and me…” he placed a hand awkwardly on Findekáno’s upper arm, then appeared to change his mind and removed it, clasping his hands together and interlacing his fingers.   
Suddenly the meaning behind his words began to dawn on Findekáno. “You…” he stared in disbelief, even as things that he had little understood before began to fall into place. “You had… have… feelings for me?”  
“Know that I am happy for you and Maitimo” said Macalaurë quickly, looking away. Two blotches of colour were beginning to show, high on his pale cheekbones. Findkáno could not get a proper look at his eyes, but he watched as Macalaurë rubbed them with the heels of his hands with a quiet, bitter laugh. “He is my brother and I love him more than my life itself. And you…” he looked at Findekáno again, and his eyes were dry, but a little reddened. “Know that you are perfect, Finno. For Maitimo, and perfect in yourself. You are the heros of the old songs, all of them rolled into one, I suppose. You are them and more, and you have grown to fascinate me, even as you and Maitimo have grown to love each other. Strange how that happens, hmm?”  
“I…” Findekáno did not know what to say. “I am not anyone remarkable. Certainly not a hero of song. Compared to you and to Maitimo, or any of your brothers really, I have little talent for anything.”  
“Ah, but that’s not what love is. Not that I know what love truly is I suppose, but I am certain it cares not a bit for that sort of thing. Not that you don’t…” Macalaurë grimaced. “See how terrible I am at this sort of thing? And they call me good with words, a poet. Ha! I suppose I am if the topic of conversation is not myself or my own feelings. Make of that what you will.”  
“Macalaurë” said Findekáno. “I am afraid I cannot – I do not - ”  
“Feel the same? Don’t worry Finno” said Macalaurë gently. “I have long become resigned to that. You and Maitimo are made for each other; I am certain it really is that simple. And I will support you and guard your secret, until you should choose to reveal it, until the end of my days. Know that I will keep my word on that.” He looked down again. “But sometimes… seeing you, the two of you together… I love you both so much and want you to be happy, but sometimes it is difficult.” His beautiful voice cracked again and Findekáno felt a stab of sympathy for his cousin, remembering when he himself had thought that Maitimo did not return his feelings. He gingerly put an arm around Macalaurë, giving his shoulder a squeeze.  
“I don’t know what to say.”  
“There’s no need to say anything. I was the one who needed to say it, and I feel better now. Thank you, Findekáno.”  
“I didn’t really do anything…” He paused. “Maybe I should go.”  
“Perhaps you should” said Macalaurë, smiling weakly. “I suppose most people will be just starting to wake up before long, but not the likes of us, hmm?”  
Findekáno was about to reply before Macalaurë beat him to it. “Go on. Go. I’ll keep your secret, closer than I keep my… my own. You and Maitimo have my love, always, and my loyalty.”  
“Thank you” said Findekáno uncertainly, clasping Macalaurë’s hands between his own. His skin felt hot, almost feverish.  
“Go, Finno. I shouldn’t have kept you here, really, not for this.” He smiled wryly. “In fact, would it be too much to ask for you to forget we ever had this awful converstation?”  
Findekáno sighed, his mind spinning as he tried to make sense of what Macalaurë had told him. “I cannot forget. All I can do is offer you my sympathy, for I know what it feels like to love one who does not return your feelings, although in my case, in the end…” he trailed off, realising that he was certainly not helping.  
But to his surprise, Macalaurë was smiling sadly. “That’s all I ask of you, Findekáno. That’s enough.”


End file.
